I think, at last,
I feel the peace
Of knowing to a certainty
The weight of doubt is lifted
Off my shoulders

I think, at last,
The very sea
Will open to receive me
And welcome me back home
Where I belong

Because I think, at last, I know
I don't need just one more pill
God knows I don't need
Any more self-reproach
I don't need a drink
I don't need another confession

I just need to shuffle off this load
I'm finally going to shuffle off this load

A Great Calm Descends

Naked
I'm naked, again
Naked
I'm naked, again
Clothed in your arms
Now it's cold in my bed
Naked, again

Hungry
I'm hungry, again
Hungry
I'm hungry, again
Filled at your breast
Now my soul's withering
Hungry, again

I can't take this anymore

Wasted
I'm wasted, again
Wasted
I'm wasted, again
Alive in your gaze
Now I'm ash on the breeze
Wasted, again

Naked

Watch the official (and proper creepy) music video at https://youtu.be/1_V_ijcMyIs.

Feeling small and frightened
An ordinary day
I think I'll stay inside, love,
You be on your way.
Promise me forever
Promise everyday
Promise me until we're both
Safely in the grave
I need you

Watching through my windows
The winters come and go
Yesterday grows indistinct
Tomorrow is unknown
Without you I might fade away
An early morning fog
Evanesce, evaporate
Dissolve into the calm
I need you

If I'm a burden, push me away

Feeling small and frightened
But today is a better day
Come and take my hand, love,
Coax me out to play
I promise you forever
Every single day
I promise you until we rest
Safely in the grave
I need you
I love

I Need You

Your laugh
Is the final, fraying strand
Holding me afloat
Upon these cold waters
Carried, dislocated, disconnected
My body a broken boat
Washed over the shoals
On a sea tide of expectations
Fatigue, hypothermia
Numb to the shock
Black swollen bruises
Tossed against the stones

I choke on saltwater
I yearn in the surf
For the sound of your laugh
I hold it, white knuckled,
Until I right myself and seize
One, stolen breath

Lucinda's Song

Come take my hand
And lay down beside me
Hold tight as you can
No need to be frightened

There's nothing to say
Your touch speaks everything
In silence we lay
In silence we lay

Remember that day?
A wind like a hurricane
We lifted our arms
Like wings of the cherubim
I thought we might fly
Float up like gossamer
Lifted by god
Straight into paradise

There's nothing to say
Your touch speaks everything
In silence we lay
In silence we lay

So many years
Such sweet belonging
And all that remains:
The long slow forgetting
So come take my hand
And lay down beside me
Hold tight as you can
Hold tight as you can

There's nothing to say
Your touch speaks everything
In silence we lay
In silence we lay

Drowning at Station 61

In Silence

How are you? It's been a long time.
Thanks for asking, I'm doing fine.

Your husband's here? (I miss you every night.)
He's with the kids. (I'm doing fine.)

How's the firm? (I want you all of the time.)
Times are tough. (I'm doing fine.)

I have to go. (I'll love you all of my life.)
All my best. (I'm doing fine.)

I trusted you once
Trusted you twice
Then I lost everything

Turn the other cheek
Seven times, he said
Both my cheeks have been bruised
Seven times, he said
Seven times seventy
It's so easy for god

Battered

An all-new, heart-rending alternative version of "Lucinda's Song," featuring a gorgeous vocal from Hazel, filled with lost hope and regret. See the video at https://youtu.be/77etHgEp6XY.

The Drowning Mixes (Forthcoming)

Lucinda' Song (Newport Edition)

Lucinda's Song (Newport Edition)

Stand up. Sit down. Wait here. Go there. Think this. Say that. All the minor irritants and indignities we suffer, day in, day out. And all the while, staring into the abyss, feeling what? Is it dread? Or is it anticipation?

Hounds of Hell

Hounds Of Hell (feat. Hazel Tratt)

Tired of the racists. Tired of the xenophobes. Tired of the people who don't know enough to know better. Tired of the people who do enough to know better, but are evil anyway. Tired of naked power grabs and naked lies in the service of naked greed. Tired of the language of Liberty being subverted into the mythology of Power. And tired of it all leading to Death, Death, and more Death.

Accordingly, here is our take on Patrick Henry's celebrated call to arms, interpolated for the 21st Century at 172 bpm.

All net proceeds from Bandcamp sales will be donated to Amnesty International.

Liberty:Power:Death

Because the little things mean everything, when everything means nothing.